Thoughts of a Father
by AllyBethie
Summary: Jim Kirk's thoughts while saying goodbye to his only son. OneShot


Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek *sobs*

It was a strange feeling being at this particular gravesite with no body to mourn for. My feelings surprised me, I must admit. In all my years I had been to plenty of funerals where the body was not among the living. As a Starfleet captain, it was inevitable that a friend wouldn't come home because their body had been left on some strange, cold planet light years away from this home here on Earth. Why did I feel so perturbed by the absence of my son?

Maybe it is because I feel guilty I didn't bring his body back. Maybe it was because when I met his mother's eyes for this first time after that terrible tragedy and couldn't offer her a final glance at the son she bore. Maybe it was because the boy deserved more honor than burning in the hell flames of Genesis. Maybe it was because my child had been robbed of me.

I contemplated these thoughts in the coldness of the day. I hung in the background of the crowd, by myself in a shadow of an elm tree. I could see the granite that sat against the hill of the cemetery. I cannot quite explain why I, the father, wasn't standing beside his mother, mourning the lost of our only child. It was probably because I felt like I would have been intruding on something I was never really apart of.

Carol asked me to stay away, so I did. I ran off into the stars and never looked back. I became married to my ship and crew, and never regretted the life I chose. Carol and David became a distant memory. Standing here now, watching the priest mummer prayers, I am not sure why I agreed to Carol's terms. Because even though I threw myself into my career, even though I got involved with a variety of other women, and even though I never even so much sent my son a birthday card, I can't help but feel the pain at missing the lifetime of my child.

What it boils down to was that I was afraid. When my brother Sam and his wife had their son Peter, I remember holding my nephew for the first time. I remember feeling the fear of crushing his small body because he felt so delicate and fragile, and I remember feeling completely overwhelmed at this little baby, at the patience and time and skill it took to nurture one so small. When Carol told me she was pregnant, those feelings came flooding back. I doubted by ability as a father.

Now I will never have the chance to see what kind of father I could have been. That causes a pain in my heart that I have never felt before. I may have not been there for my child, but I did love David dearly.

I was stirred from my thoughts by the movement of the crowd in front of me. The funeral had finished, and people left one by one silently, giving their condolences if they pasted Carol, hugging her if permitted. I looked at her, long and hard with my mouth pressed tight. She looked pale, like she hadn't slept for days. She had ceased her crying, but her eyes were still tired and red.

Sighing, I decided it was probably time for me to go. I put my hands in my pocket and started to walk up the hill. I barely got to the top when I heard my name called. Turning, I saw Carol approaching me.

"Jim, please wait a moment." She met me where I stood, and looked at me. I could see her forming the words that she wanted to say, because her eyes spoke volumes. Yet it was apparent nothing seemed right to her.

"I'm sorry." She finally whispered, glancing down.

"Carol, I'm the one who should be sorry." I looked at her, slightly confused at her words, "If I had been sooner, or quicker in my thinking, may he wou-"

"No Jim, you did everything you could. I have no doubt of that." Carol smiled weakly, still glancing down, "No, I'm sorry for something else entirely. I'm sorry I asked you to stay away. You deserved to know your son better, and I had robbed you of that ability." When the words left her mouth, she began to sob hysterically. And on that hill, I grabbed the woman I had once loved, and in a way still loved dearly. I let her cry her pain and loss out on my shoulder, with my own silent tears joining in. I said nothing; because there were no words I could offer up to make this better. I just stood rocking her back and forth in my arms, trying to let her know that I held nothing against her.


End file.
